Something for Stevie

Morning Story and Dilbert

I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn’t sure I wanted one. I wasn’t sure how my customers would react to Stevie.

He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn’t worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don’t generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.

The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded ‘truck stop germ’ the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.

I shouldn’t have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.

After that, I really didn’t care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nike’s  eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table.

Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag.

If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That’s why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work.

He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn’t unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months.

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.

Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.

Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. ‘OK, Frannie, what was that all about?’ he asked.

‘We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.’
‘I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?’

Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie’s surgery, then sighed: ‘Yeah, I’m glad he is going to be OK,’ she said. ‘But I don’t know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they’re barely getting by as it is.’ Belle Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables. Since I hadn’t had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn’t want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do.

After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face.

‘What’s up?’ I asked.

‘I didn’t get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were sitting there when I got back to clean it off,’ she said. ‘This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup.’ She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed ‘Something For Stevie’.

‘Pony Pete asked me what that was all about,’ she said, ‘so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this’ She handed me another paper napkin that had ‘Something For Stevie’ scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: ‘truckers.’

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work.

His placement worker said he’s been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn’t matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back.

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn’t stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting.

‘Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast,’ I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. ‘Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!’ I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room.

I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. ‘First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess,’ I said. I tried to sound stern.

Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had ‘Something for Stevie’ printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.

Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother. ‘There’s more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. ‘Happy Thanksgiving.’

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what’s funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.

Best worker I ever hired.

Plant a seed and watch it grow. AMEN!

By Dan Anderson – 
A fiction piece published in rpm Magazine for Truckers, November, 1998
  1. Mia said:

    Hi Kenny T
    I am so glad you liked my blog (http:// yesterday, for now I have found your blog and am so blessed and humbled by your post about Stevie. Yes, the trucker community is a wonderful bunch, even here in South Africa. Thanks again for sharing Stevie and his mom with all of us!


  2. A thought to remember: everyone brings something to the table. Your post says this is a fictional story, but the story rings true. There are many wonderful hard workers with disabilities, like Stevie, and there are also many generous truckers. I base that on my cousin, Bill, who was a trucker and on others I’ve met.


    • morningstoryanddilbert said:

      You are absolutely right with your comment, “There are many wonderful hard workers with disabilities, like Stevie”. Take care and God Bless 🙂 Kenny T


  3. I started crying before the story ended. May God give us all a heart for the physically and mentally disabled.

    Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.


  4. OneHotMess said:

    I really dislike it when people make me cry first thing in the morning, but that you for doing just that!


  5. Kitt Crescendo said:

    Loved this!


  6. Dave Boller said:

    You’re a butt-head, Kenny T! Five cups of coffee for this one and a Kleenex to dry my eyes. Yesterday, I said I wanted to see Jesus through you – today I did! God bless you, my friend! Dave 🙂


  7. I’m actually crying right now reading this touching, touching story. I’ve never given Downs people much thought before this but you told the Stevie Story with great warmth – love.


    • morningstoryanddilbert said:

      ….here’s a Kleenex!! and God Bless 🙂


  8. Great Story! Thanks for posting. I went to hear a lecture last night by Anglican Bishop gene Robinson. He said that the mission of Christians is to minister to “The last, the lost, and the least.” Funny how themes develop in your life when the Universe is trying to teach you something.


  9. ronfurg said:

    Kenny — Are you working on commission for the Kleenex folks?


    • morningstoryanddilbert said:

      LOL!!! 🙂 These stories are tugging at my heart strings Too!!!! Take Care and God Bless 🙂 Kenny T


  10. Plant a seed indeed. Kenny, I can’t help but highlight these awesome stories you deliver to us on a daily about good deeds and the fact that it is awesome whenever we do good. You know, people always say good people finish last, but the awesome thing is they still finish and the glory of goodwill, even if one finishes last, is forevermore, even better than the ones who do things for wrong reasons. God is good always and His goodness will outshine ALL!


  11. Debbie said:

    My best friend’s little granddaughter is a Downs baby. These stories are inspiring, and give everyone with challenged children hope. Thanks for the reminder of how special they are.


  12. Joyful Reader said:

    I am sitting here at my desk and people are looking at me like I am crazy. I can’t help the tears that are flowing! What a wonderful thing those folks did!


  13. My tears join all the heartfelt tears in comments before me. I need a copy of this for my store file. Do you mind?


    • morningstoryanddilbert said:

      Not at all. It’s a story that needs to spread around as much as possible!!!!! And thank you for your comments!!! They are always welcome.. Take Care and God Bless 🙂 Kenny T


  14. Will and Eko said:

    Great story – now we just need to hope that life imitates art and more people can follow this message!


  15. cshowers said:

    You made me cry… but it was a good cry. 🙂 Beautiful story!


    • morningstoryanddilbert said:

      This story has made a lot of people cry today!!!! I haven’t checked Kleenex stock today, I would guess it is up. LOL Take Care and God Bless 🙂 Kenny T


  16. Trying to type here with tears in my eyes! This is a wonderful story… and shows just how amazing it is wehn “we love one another as Jesus loved us”.
    Thank you


  17. I have enjoyed your blogs so much but this touched a very special place in my heart. My best friend has Downs, she graduated from High School last year and will start her first job at the beginning of next month. I understand Stevies excitement and dedication to his job and most of all I understand how someone like Stevie can make such a huge impact on the lives of others.
    Thank you,


  18. Jeff said:

    You know you just made me cry at work. What a wonderful story!


  19. samanila said:

    damn, i thought its for real. you had me crying in there, you silly you. 🙂


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